Goa'uld: Possession
by GreviousPridakArbiter
Summary: I died. My soul languished for an eternity in the void before snagging the metaphorical coattails of a passing presence. Unfortunately, I lost my grip at a crucial moment and proceeded to fall into a familiar universe. Denied physical form I accidentally possess something that usually does the possessing.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

For eons I drifted through a void. Memories dissolved behind me into the void. The longer I lingered the more dreams and thoughts slipped out of my being.

Now and then vast beings of hungry energy swam nearby. I was quiet as they passed.

I knew in a primal instinctual way not to draw the attention of these monsters. They were not the only creatures that dwelled in the void. Smaller but none the lesser creatures of sated energy passed my position. At times I stretched out and grasped the long trailing lines of the energy left in their passing, pulling it into my being. My scavenged energy did not help my own drain much but it did slow the hemorrhaging of my memories.

The smaller beings didn't feel as hungry as the titanic energy monsters. On impulse I slipped into one of their slipstreams and trailed behind. Funnily enough I had never considered moving through the void by myself. I had just sat there motionless for an eternity.

I think, at least I am pretty sure, I was human once. Many of the details of my life are blurry to my memory. I do not remember my name, or my birthplace, or the city that I lived in. But, I almost know with certainty that I was human once.

I faltered in my pursuit of the energy trail for just a second and that was enough to lose it. I floundered for a second reaching out trying to grasp onto something intangible. I felt a spark deep inside my being ignite with a sudden burn.

For a split second I saw many things, whirling by without stopping, nations, planets, galaxies, and universes. So many possibilities, what was I supposed to do? I knew I needed to act, and quickly. I extended my being, grazing one possibility. It careened off my form. I fumbled for it trying to grasp it. With an almost forgotten motion I managed to hook it towards me…

()

I was somewhere dark. Similar to the void, but where the void was a place of nothingness this was a place of substance. Oxygen and other gases drifted around and threw my form, spores and fragments of slowly growing things drifted through my body carried by the gases. Casting my awareness forward I slipped past molecules and slowly growing things.

I could feel my energy leaching away slowly but surely as I moved. I did not possess the strength to keep my form tethered to this world. I had left the void but soon without a physical anchor or form to bind my, soul, for lack of a better term, too I would return to that dreaded placed of nothingness. I also knew that I had not the strength to endure there for the blind eternity that I once had.

I slithered through the remaining molecules and drifted slowly in search of an anchor. Pulsing once I reached out with long tendrils, the stone and masonry that surrounded me might work but would still drain me; it would be slower but still noticeable. Worse I would not have the strength to find a better anchor if one stumbled by.

The stone would not do. Next my tendrils located a plant, some type of desert plant, retaining great water. I lingered in this possibility slightly longer but the plant's development was stagnant, in the waning years of its lifespan. I did not want a dying thing in the twilight years of its life. I wanted to be able to live, to endure for countless ages. I moved again, my shapeless form sliding easily through everything around me. My power, my energy, was a vast reservoir but even that simple task drained it considerably.

I would not be able to move in such a way again without an anchor. I reached again. This time I found a small animal, a rodent, a vermin, I examine its form. Could I use this as an anchor?

No, I decided, my form was too vast for its mind to contain, I was a being of pure energy and my form would immolate something as simple as a rodent if I tried to use it as an anchor.

I paused for a half second as another thought occurred to me, if I was only a human why were my energy reserves so vast?

I considered the question before deciding that I would leave it for a different time when I wasn't in danger of being dissipated before gaining an anchor.

I discarded the insects within range for the same reasons I discarded the small rodent. My mind lingered on a strange arachnid my mind identified as a scorpion for a second before moving on.

I stilled as I touched something I could use. I had found an intelligent mind and a larger organic form. I seeped into the form gathering information about the creature. Biped, highly developed brain, male, and over half of its lifespan was pass.

I probed it some more seeking additional information. Human, my mind slowly supplied. A surge of joy filled my form before I stifled it, this was a slight problem.

I knew, through instinct, that I could usurp this human's body from his own energy field pushing his soul out and into the void. The human's soul would not survive out in the void for as long as I did but instead would dissolve like sand tossed into a river.

Pausing, I considered this problem, before reluctantly searching again for something else capable of containing my energy.

I passed several humans and likewise disregarded them after affirming that it was impossible for both their soul and mine to share the same body.

Finally I found something different. It appeared to be a human with two souls, one was relatively pure but tinged with despair and the other was…rotten. It was riddled with decaying energy and tainted my senses. I flowed down the line of my tendrils towards it, expending precious energy in the process.

What is it? I probed it again, more thoroughly, with my energy. The pure but despairing soul was almost in some sort of limbo, only connected to the body through a thin tether. The rotted soul was firmly entrenched and permeated the body thoroughly.

Disgusting.

I was repulsed by the condition of the soul but I wondered whether I could use the creature's body. It appeared to be some type of serpent that had taken the human as a host; it was directly connected to the nervous system and to other parts of the human's body. I touched it with my energy before pulling back. I dared not take that repulsive little creature as a body. Its ickieness might infect me with something if it wasn't properly expelled out into the void.

But there was something more to this body. I constructed a slight energy tether to the creature as it directed the host body to move forward. I drifted along behind it as I poked it again with my energy.

There! The rotten creature contained about fifteen small…little serpents within it. I presumed these were embryos of some sort or at least the young of this creature. They were connected to the rotten serpent creature which appeared to be feeding, copying some of its rot into their tiny souls. It was slowly tingeing the tiny pure souls into the black color of the mother.

However, they might be of use. The little serpent souls seemed to be capable of stretching to a great length to accommodate vast swathes of knowledge. It seemed possible that I could slip in through the mother, merging with a little of the rot that the mother was copying and into one of her children. Through this I would deceive the little serpent soul into receiving me in my entirety.

This way I wouldn't need to condemn a sentient creature to the void. Nor would I be risking my sanity trying to forcefully expel the blackened soul of the mature serpent from its body.

I gathered my will and strength before slipping into the human host and then through the human host into the serpents soul. I felt for an instant the senses of the body. The smells in the air, the light streaming into the human's eyes, the noises permeating the surroundings, and lastly the gentle touch of a breeze on the bodies skin. For a second I paused, overcome by the ecstasy of sensation after an eternity of nothing. But that was enough for the serpent's control to be usurped for a split second. The host body stumbled and the serpent's thoughts of blood and control paused. In that instant I knew that for a second it had perceived my form, my vast reservoirs of energy and unfathomable mind.

I felt the host's vocal chords vibrate as it called out in confusion and panic, "Jaffa Kree!"

Then I passed through the serpent and into the least of its spawn. Its soul stretched as I settled and forged my anchor with its soul, tethering me to this realm and the small serpents form. The soul struggled for a second with a brief flash of panic before its memories, which were surprisingly vast, seamlessly slipped into mine.

The memories were of the serpent's predecessors, creatures that had started on a world at the bottom of the food chain before gradually taking stronger hosts before they left the planet through the use of an artifact and eventually arrived on Earth. There the serpents, which my new memories told me referred to themselves as the Goa'uld, had used what they had learned traveling and possessing to masquerade as the gods and goddesses of various religions. Around this time it appeared that the Goa'uld's previous host specie had began developing an immunity to possession so the serpents switched to human hosts and that was what they were using to this day.

My awareness had shrunk after I expanded the majority of my power, energy, anchoring myself to the small Goa'uld. I turned my awareness to my new body, I was know one of these Goa'uld. I was one of the newest to a race of mass murderers. I paused as the flow of blackened soul energy ceased. Slightly concerned that I had been detected somehow I stretched out my depleted energy sense and poked my fellow symbiotes. My fellow parasites were still receiving, which was somewhat concerning.

Evidently, whatever sense that the Goa'uld used to convey the soul rot decided that I was finished receiving the soul rot. I suppose the soul rot wasn't really an accurate term. The rot was clearly the Goa'uld genetic memories, a fact I could see know that the flow had ceased and the memories had stopped along with it.

This was troublesome. I didn't even see enough to know what was going on in the universe these days. All I know was what happened nearly a thousand and fifty years before, I knew from the Goa'uld memories that they had been driven off Earth but I had no way of knowing what else had occourred in the meantime. Had the Goa'uld reclaimed Earth? Did all the humans in the universe serve the Goa'uld? What languages had developed in the meantime? Did the Goa'uld still speak Goa'uld? Were they still called Goa'uld? I stopped there, morbidly amused. It was not wise to dwell on something that I could no longer change.

()

I stretched my awareness over to something else that had been nagging at me. This host seemed almost stilted. It was a genetic dead end, merely a drone. This body had no way to reproduce or have any young.

I would not abide my form to sublime! This was the body of a god! This… I wasn't a god. What was I thinking? I compressed the numerous Goa'uld memories and stashed them away in the back of my mind.

That was worrisome that those few memories that I possessed would cause me to act in such a manner. I will need to find some way to purge or perhaps curb those impulses. Lest I would be discovered before I can finish my plans of conquering the system and becoming the Supreme System Lord!

What.

What!

I suppressed the memories yet again; they had floated back up to the forefront of my mind.

Hoping to keep my almost one track mind off the idiotic thoughts of ruling the universe I turned my attention to my seemingly stilted form. My preliminary thoughts were correct in the thought that my serpent body was only that of a drone. I perused my memories quickly for information regarding this.

Hmm, it seemed that Ra, Apophis, Yu, and nearly all the System Lords were drones. Perhaps it would be in my best interest to stay as a drone? Was their a reason that those that ruled were but drones?

No, I should mold my form, my serpent, my Goa'uld, to its greatest potential. I settled firmly in my firm and grasped at the cells. Once My grasp was firm I delved into them, twisting them subtly until I had what I wanted.

My new form would no longer be a lowly drone but a queen, capable of spawning its own children that would retain all my memories. Through them I would be immortal.

I cackled evilly. Or at least I would have cackled but my Goa'uld body was currently incapable of this action.

Preparations done I closed my malicious red eyes and drifted in thought, slowly but surely my energy levels were climbing again. Soon they would reach my previous level.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

I stirred. How long had I been asleep? I twisted my energy around searching for an answer. I was able to receive something that should have been an answer but my now Goa'uld mind was incapable of comprehending it in its entirety. I had the feeling that I could push it but would risk severe neural damage to my body. And if I self inflicted myself with the answer the damage would be extensive enough that I wouldn't even be able to comprehend asking the energy again.

Since that was something I most adamantly did not desire I let my energy's answer seep back into me returning to its previous form as just energy and not as an answer.

A more pressing matter was my wakefulness, why was I awake? I clearly remembered settling down to wait until the corrupted serpent spawned me along with my similarly corrupted brethren. I stiffened my body as the fleshy walls around me shuddered. What was going on? Was the Goa'uld's host under attack?

The movement ceased and I identified several chemicals flood the host's body. I prodded at them with the energy but what I received back was too complex for my mortal comprehension.

A flash of knowledge, Goa'uld memories filled me in about one chemical. It was adrenaline. This lent credence to my theory that my Goa'uld progenitor was in combat.

Another possibility drifted to the forefront of my mind, this time my energy put forth a hypothesis. But I didn't want to even entertain the possibility it suggested.

()

A few weeks later I was born. I slithered out of… to simplify things I will just call it my mother's host. I emerged alongside all fifteen of my brethren into a water filled container.

Once discerning the nature of the container I darted away from my disoriented siblings and towards a corner. My Goa'uld memories were clear in the fact that other Goa'uld larvas were cannibalistic.

If I had only the physical senses at my disposal I would have been similarly confused, but I had utilized my energy to reach out into the water and get my bearings.

The water was not actually water. I mean part of it was but I tasted several metals and more than a few chemicals. There was actually some poison mixed in with the water.

I attempted to purge the slightly poisoned water I had ingested when first entering this new watery world but my energy needed more instruction than vague thoughts.

Using my non corporal senses I scrutinized my siblings, they were bigger and of a different shape, stockier and seemed built more for combat with larger jaws and wider crests. To put it simply I stood out.

I felt a force seize my by the neck and I was lifted out of the water. My instincts demanded that I screech and so I did. It was always wise not to stand out too much especially in overly paranoid places.

My mother held me up as I screeched, gazing upon my form. I twisted and snapped at her hand. My mother snarled something and breathed out in my direction.

I stilled as my mind dulled for a second, my energy lurched to destroy an influx of chemicals, pheromones and other substances. What was this? A flash of Goa'uld memory supplied me with an answer. Apparently Goa'uld queens could exhale a pheromone cocktail that could induce many states of various emotions, ranging from apathy and lethargy to lust and overpowering rage.

Through my drug induced haze I heard the sharp grating sounds of the Goa'uld language. Annoyingly my brain was incapable of focusing enough to decipher the words.

I held aloft for a moment longer as someone answered the queen then I was dropped back into the water.

Clarity returned with shocking swiftness and I managed to dodge one of my siblings that struck towards me sensing that I would be disoriented.

My mandibles struck home at its lunging form. Blood filled the water as I refused to relinquish my hold of my thrashing sibling. The others approached then and tore into the injured.

They reminded me of piranhas.

I shuddered, my entire body rippling as I did so. Twisting around I swam back towards my corner. I was going to stay far away from my siblings, those little piranha wannabes.

I watched the others over the course of the next hour. Four more of my siblings died, consumed by the others in a feeding frenzy after they too fell injured. My fellow Goa'uld were truly disturbing little snakes. My Goa'uld memories attempted to reassure me that cannibalism was perfectly normal but I remained highly skeptical.

()

I stayed in the pool of water for about a day. The passing of time was strange and I had no clock or sun to base my theory off of but that is what I thought was right.

When I next was lifted out of the water I was surrounded by chanting dudes carrying large torches.

Somebody that I could only really describe as a priestess was holding me in manicured hands. She looked to be of Middle Eastern origin, of course that was only possible if I was on Earth. She was also chanting in the Goa'uld tongue. I caught numerous words, not all, but it was confusing with all the discordant chanting. One word I positively recognized was Apophis. This let me assume that I was on a power ruled by one of Ra's nemesis.

Of course none of this really explained what was going on. I personally had no idea. I dived into my memories looking for some answers. Of course I kept up appearances by screeching loudly and angrily.

Several ideas presented themselves in quick order but this 'ritual' seemed slightly different. Nevertheless, I found what I was looking for after a couple seconds of skimming through my Goa'uld memories.

The chanting reached a crescendo as the priestess stopped in front of a large muscular Jaffa. He was the only dude that hadn't been chanting, and was in fact looking a little sickly.

The priestess held me forward in a firm group towards the Jaffa's abdomen. Ah, this Jaffa's prim'ta must have matured and this was the ceremony for the implantation of a new larvae Goa'uld.

I jerked forward towards the Jaffa, following my Goa'uld instincts. In a flash I was inside flesh. I curled up. The Jaffa was warm and comfortable for my larvae form. The sound was muted and distant so I would have no problem falling into a sleep like state again. In a way this reminded me of my life inside my mother, the Goa'uld queen. I suppose everything biological holds some measure of comfort in its mother.

()

Alone within the Jaffa I have only my thoughts for company. One issue I consider is that of a name. My name from before my residence within a Goa'uld is lost to me consumed by the ever hungry void. A few flash before my mind's eye, names of deities and spirits of ancient lore. I linger over the Norse names for a second before my Goa'uld memory sends a scrap of memory before my eyes. Those names were all taken.

Both Greek and Roman names were considered next, they were all taken too. The Egyptian names I considered last and they were all taken as well. Some of them were taken twice over.

I paused in thought, what names weren't taken? I suppose Morgoth wasn't. Neither was Sauron. I twitched within the Jaffa in annoyance. I wasn't going to be evil, positive! I needed a name that had meaning but was untaken by the other Goa'uld. I needed something uncommon specifically because my memory was so spotty.

Goa'uld have been challenged in duels concerning names before so I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't be defeated and forced to cede both name and power to others.

 _What about angels?_

There was an idea. To my knowledge the Goa'uld didn't use angel names. None tried to set themselves up as God with a capital 'G'. I don't know whether even they weren't that arrogant or that one tried and was killed by the others. This however meant that none took angel names since according to the Bible they would be subservient to whatever Goa'uld tried to proclaim himself…eh…you get the idea.

What about Lasciel?

I paused as that though floated through. Who was Lasciel? I prodded and called up memories searching for the answer. I found it buried underneath a fragmented but epic story of a place called Chicago. Lasciel was one of thirty fallen angels.

Fallen? This was appropriate. Lasciel, or more accurately Lash, became relatively good towards the end of her participation in the story. I sought some sort of separation from the actions of my fellow Goa'uld.

My name would hereon be Lasciel. One of the fallen.

()

Almost three years have passed inside the intermediate Jaffa host. I have had opportunity to think for a long time.

My genetic memory indicates that most Goa'uld larvae are never given a host. This is troubling. The higher ranking Goa'uld, such as the System Lords, bring paranoia too new heights with the belief that new Goa'uld would use their genetic memory to overthrow them.

Granted it is true that most Goa'uld would try so perhaps it is not exactly paranoia, but it is still quite inconvenient for me. Most Goa'uld are killed on the cusp of maturity and before they take their first host. This is troubling for me because it means that I have a high chance of being murdered before I am even strong enough to survive. I shudder as the implication that I would be forced to return to the void.

That settles that question, I would have to leave my intermediate host, the Jaffa, and seek to escape and take a host of my own. The chances were agonizingly low for any chance of actually being given a host.

My changed physical appearance probably will only increase my chances of death. The Goa'uld dislike any change, as with all quasi immortals they have a good thing going for them and they don't want it to change.

I wonder where I got insight into immortal races. That is not something a human should know. For not the last time I question my earlier assumption, was I human once? Or was I something that merely pretended to be a human?

Perhaps those earlier memories were only dreams. Vivid dreams but dreams none the less.

I considered this before deciding that my memories were most certainly not a dream! They contained such knowledge and insight in such depth that it couldn't be found among regular dreams.


	3. Chapter 3: Common Sense

Chapter 3:

Six years passed surprisingly fast. Or at least I thought it was six years, the answer my energy gave me seemed to imply six years but I really couldn't comprehend the entirety of its answer. I knew that I had to move quickly from here on out.

Goa'uld larvae prim'ta mature in seven years. In the seventh year they are extracted from their Jaffa and either killed or implanted in a host.

Now obviously there was some chance that the Goa'uld had noticed that I was markedly different but I certainly find that unlikely. It was far more certain that my mother had noted my abnormality and would seek to have me terminated.

After all, every nigh immortal or exceedingly long lived species abhors change. At least that was what my energy, my power, seemed to imply. Its warnings were not entirely understood by the brain of my current form.

Would the increased brain space afforded by a host boost my thinking capability? I pondered this for a few days, before deciding that was obviously a question that I would discover the answer for myself in my own good time.

On another matter I was on Chulak, capital of Apophis… or at least that was what I was assuming. I had few memories of Chulak, not for the first time I cursed my ill thinking in severing the flow of memories before grasping all of their intricate nuances.

If I at any time escaped a search would probably be conducted to locate me. This hunt would undoubtedly result in my eventual termination. After all I would be operating in a divergent manner.

Divergent? That word calls up shadowy, half forgotten memories. I skimmed the memories quickly but ultimately disregarded them when I realized it was merely a piece of literature. A piece of fictional literature. It had no value to me in the process of escape.

Once leaving my Jaffa, I would be noticed immediately by my very same Jaffa. Thus, I would have to leave during his sleep cycle. It appeared that my absence would not be noticed for at least several minutes. After that I was uncertain, my memory did not deem to include the knowledge of how quickly the Jaffa's immune system would fail.

That, however, raised another question, could I possess my Jaffa? I searched my memory for any cases of Jaffa possession. Slightly disgruntled I concluded that there was none.

I remained unaware of why. Did Goa'uld refrain from taking Jaffa as hosts because it was socially abhorrent? Or was it something more sinister? Are Jaffa wills to strong to subsume? Perhaps the Jaffa are toxic? Do they give Goa'uld radiation poisoning?

None of these questions were answered by my meager memories. Besides the radiation one, of course. Jaffa very obviously were not irradiated, otherwise they would give everybody radiation poisoning and I would already be poisoned by being in a Jaffa. However, that does raise the question on whether or not radiation poisoning was cured by the Sarcophagus. My memories did not include anything on that subject either. You would think something like radiation poisoning would be important info. Perhaps Goa'uld viewed radiation poisoning in a completely different light. Then it would not necessarily be where I was looking in the memories.

Eh, it's not that important, right? My energy twitched; maybe it was annoyed with my mental rambling. However, it was abundantly clear that I needed to leave this host...

And it was also clear that I did not have much time.

I planned for tonight. My Jaffa was thankfully clueless of my intentions. I cackled like a crazed maniac. Or at least I'd cackle if i had the anatomy for it. The best I managed was some strange gurgling sound, like a drowning... something.

I stayed still and waited as my intermediary host gradually relaxed as the day ended. I waited in careful stillness as my Jaffa ate his evening meal, or at least I think that was what he was doing, and then went to bed. I carefully monitored his heart rate to determine when he was completely asleep.

Briefly I paused once I deemed that he was sufficiently asleep. I remembered something vaguely about REM sleep. What was the deepest part of the sleep cycle? My energy twisted in my mental grip, for a moment I thought that it would answer. Of course it didn't and I mentally berated myself for thinking that my energy would know the answer when it didn't even seem sentient.

I slowly, so slowly poked my head out of the Jaffa's symbiote pouch. It was dark. And I couldn't see anything. A growing feeling of frustration emerged. Of course i wouldn't be able to see, Goa'uld were a species that relied on hosts. Their sense of sight wouldn't be that strong if they lived in darkness most of the time. Or was it supposed to be the other way around?

Didn't creatures that existed in darkness evolve exaggerated senses? Or since Goa'uld never had real use for their eyes they atrophied?

A sharp blade of fury pierced my mind, why didn't i think that my senses would be so impaired? My energy rolled around my before twisting like a serpent and spearing into my eyes. I nearly shrieked as my nerves burned. It felt as if someone was jamming fiery pokers into my optic nerves. Thankfully, with a supreme effort of will I resisted shrieking and even managed to keep my body from spasming.

I wonder whether all Goa'uld have extreme pain tolerance or whether that was just me. Of course the pain could be in actuality be extremely mild and because of an extremely low pain tolerance it just felt excruciating.

Nevertheless, I slowly opened my eyes as the pain subsided. Huh, I had not even realized I had eyelids. The room was awash with grid like lines. You ever see the science fiction movies where they have an advanced plan of some future building and everything is done in grids? Like that except it wasn't really see through. It was just localized. Everything in my line of sight was gridded over. Where before I could only see darkness now there was the outline of the room and all surfaces in it done up in gridded lines.

Eh, makes me think of video games. I inched my way out of the Jaffa. A flash of memory hit me for a second, one of my original memories. I almost shivered as I absentmindedly skimmed it. A pale worm like creature erupted from someone's stomach in a display of gore and viscera. This strange creature had acid for blood and quickly went on to grow into a disturbing eldritch like creature that killed the rest of the people in the...spaceship? Hmm, that wasn't a spaceship design I knew. I wonder how I watched all that?

I made a silent vow to kill any strange chestbursting creatures before they grew into shiny, slimy, and acidy monsters.

The Jaffa twitched slightly as I eased my tail out of his pouch. Finally I was free! I slithered across the floor slowly, careful to make as little noise as possible. My grid vision faded away as I reached the door out of my intermediary host's room. Still taking care to be quiet I inched around the door frame and then crept along the wall, I most certainly did not want to be stepped on.

Heh.

How.

How exactly was I planning again to open doors? I got this far to be defeated by a puny door! I hissed angrily before quieting abruptly, I didn't want to wake the Jaffa. I scrutinized the door. It might lead outside, or it might lead further indoors. I doubted that it lead further inside however. My memories seemed to imply that the average unmarried Jaffa had small domiciles. Only two of three rooms. A bedroom, a washroom, and a weapon storage, boot storage, kind of room.

How was I, the mighty Lasciel, defeated by a puny door! I thought quite arrogantly to myself, I would defeat this door! Blast it into oblivion!

Yes, it would be splintered before my might!

Or...I could just slither underneath the door. What? I scrutinized the door a little better. Yes, it appears that I could easily slip under the door, after all I was clearly thin and snake like. Except for my head, which was a little large.

Over inflated really.

I quietly glided over to the door and slowly squeezed between the door's rail and it's threshold. My head was a little difficult to get through but I angled it sideways and managed to get through.

Yes! I was outside!

And that's when I realized my eyesight was just as deplorable as before.


	4. Chapter 4: G is for Goa'uld

Chapter 4: G for Goa'uld

I was outside. Managing to get outdoors was my objective. However, I had not anticipated that I would be handicapped by terrible eyesight. At this point I could barely see three feet in front of me before it became progressively more blurry.

Now how do snakes see? I am awfully serpent like so if I could remember how snakes see… My vision suddenly filled with the same glowing lines that had materialized before. I had not even realized that they had dissipated. They must have done so in such a gradual manner that I had not even noticed.

The grid vision was only marginally better. Yes, I could see a little farther but in the grand scheme of things three feet of vision compared to twelve feet is not that awesome. Which of course returned me to my recollections of how snakes see. I am pretty positive that vipers see using some type of thermal vision. The line of thought is shot dead by the knowledge of non existent thermal vision. The grid vision is certainly not thermal vision after all.

Regardless, if I stay here to long I will be discovered and most likely killed, murdered, eaten, et cetera. Reaching this conclusion I decided that it would be best to hide and/or quickly find a host.

I slithered down the two steps in front of the Jaffa's domicile and out into the dark street. A street that was absolutely filthy. Apparently, this section of the city does not have proper sanitation. I remember wondering what people in ancient times had done or where they relieved themselves without bathrooms. It was only later that they received themselves, merely on the sides of streets in cities and sometimes even right in the middle of the street.

Obviously, I do not think that the Goa'uld would appreciate their 'slaves' urinating on the sides of the road so most likely the nicer sections of the city would have proper facilities. However, I was apparently in a poorer part of the city, for all I know my old host, the Jaffa, was disgraced our without any family. Unfortunately, this also meant that my host lived in the decrepit part of the city where Black Plague levels of refuse was gathered on the sides of the street.

I was going to be absolutely filthy by the time I was ready to enter a host, which in turn would mean that my host would catch some terrible disease from me passing through the back of their throat.

Meh, better that the host was dead then me. If the host became sick enough I could always jump bodies and find a new host. Perhaps, my Goa'uld urges were beginning to show through my callous disregard for the humans?

I stilled when I felt vibrations through the street. Something was approaching. I froze and waited while the source of the vibrations drew closer. I flashed my grid vision on as the vibrations finally reached me.

Two Jafffa were silhouetted in my vision for a second. One stopped, the other continued walking for a few steps before stopping himself.

The one that had called out raised his, uh, Jaffa stick, what was it called again? Then he spoke, which was not in a language that I understood, to the other.

The second one, the one that had stopped first, was panning his gaze around cautiously. He reached up and scratched at his armpit, the picture of competence before shrugging and replying to the other. A few scant words were exchanged before both continued on their way.

I waited, tense and silent as their footsteps receded into the distance. _Now that was close_ , I thought, breathing out with a sibilant hiss. I resumed my slithering, inching alongside the edge of the street. There actually was a few openings off to the side, which led to what I presumed to be some sort of drainage system.

I considered making my way down one but ultimately decided against it, who know how long it would take me to find a host once I was down in the city's non human underbelly. The chill of the night air slowly began to permeate my body, making my movements grow increasingly sluggish.

My mind however, was as sharp as a steel trap and since I could not set myself on fire with my mind I required a different type of warmth. No, not alcohol, which is actually folly to drink in order to feel warm since it merely causes the feeling of warmth and in actuality makes you colder.

I needed a host, the sooner the better. Now, this was a street, which presumably people traveled so I needed to find an intersection, wait for an early morning somebody, and possess them.

Easy to say, harder to actually do. The city must have a curfew? That's the only explanation I can think of for the city to be so empty, even if it is night time. Nevertheless, after much trial and error I located a crossroads and curled myself up near the entrance to one street. The night got a little colder but I remained relatively warm in a pile of fermenting vegetable matter. Or at least what I hope is vegetable matter.

I gently pushed that train of though away when I finally felt the vibrations of somebody walking quietly down the street/alley thing. When it got nearer I activated my grid vision, in order to see what it was before moving, I certainly did not want to attack a cat, or something.

My fears were unfounded since it was human, which was good. The human himself was an old man, dressed in rags, and evidently nearing the end of his life. A beggar of some sort. I paused, wondering whether I should wait until a stronger host came along or whether I should seek to take this nearly worthless host.

The cold decided for me, I tensed for a second, rustling the trash. The old man turned his head towards me. I could see the instant he spotted me that he opened his mouth to cry out. I jumped, my sinuous body uncoiling in one smooth motion. I landed on the arm the beggar stretched out in a futile attempt to ward me off. As he sucked in a breath to scream for help, I shot into his throat, a long buried instinct propelling me as I sliced with sharp teeth the back of his throat and coiled around his spine.

He was m̳̥̮̯̈̇̒͆̍̓̊͘͘͢ḯ̢̧̧͔̹͍̣͖̉̌̽̀̓̆ṇ̛̖̩̠͖̣̽̈́̀͛̀͠e̶̛̲͙̟̫̝͋̇̀̕͜͜͟.


	5. Chapter 5: M for Mine

Chapter 5: M for Mine

Perhaps I had acted in an erroneous and overly hasty manner. This body was much more difficult to control than I had expected. The old beggar's mind actively fought against my rule. I mean he was completely and utterly terrified, and someone would think this would translate into surrender.

However, his mind was panicking. His terror quickly became that of a cornered animal and he was quickly driven into a mental frenzy. The constant mental attacks made walking incredibly difficult. His mind was not even forming coherent thoughts just blindly and unrelentingly striking at my consciousness.

Also, he had both a bad leg, injured greatly in some accident, and a peg leg, like a pirate. The peg leg was especially troublesome, considering it snapped as soon as I put any weight on it. I stumbled, nearly crawling, for two blocks, or at least what I assumed to be blocks, before realizing that the old beggar had also had a cane.

Which would have, of course, made walking quiet easier, except I had left it behind in my hurry to flee the area of possession.

I growled, sounding quite animalistic and stumbled a few more steps. The growing headache was really annoying. I needed to do something about this mental assault. I grasped for my well of power, the same one that my grid vision had come from. It slipped through my metaphorical fingers, like so much fine sand.

Alarmed, I attempted to activate my grid vision. The attempt was futile, my grid vision did not materialize.

If I remembered any curse words, I would curse. I felt my thoughts attempt to steer towards wherever my Goa'uld memories buried curse words but quickly deflected it towards Goa'uld host suppression.

After all, profanity is the crutch of the intellectually crippled. Which I was assuredly not, in fact I was a god! I stomped that thought hurriedly, it was surfacing because I was parsing through the Goa'uld memories. That was the only reason, I myself possessed no idiotic delusions of grandeur.

Let's see, the Goa'uld suppress the host through… ah, that seems quite morally wrong. Essentially the Goa'uld hold the belief that torture solves most problems in life. Now, while mentally shredding the original consciousness would actually be the most effective it probably would not be ethical because I am going to leave this body, I can establish this as absolutely certain, as soon as I find another host. I am not going to settle for a beggar next time.

Maybe a king, or queen, a prince or princess, would be suitable as well. Then I would become the SUPREM SYSTEM LORD! I pushed that thought away with a burst of effort. My energy, it appears, surpassed these urges much more than I had suspected.

I needed to silence the old man's mind. Shredding his very existence would be morally reprehensible but I needed to do something! I quickly scanned my memories when the old beggar's consciousness drew back for a split second, merely to recollect itself.

Then while I floundered for a second, drowning in the genetic memories, the beggar laughed the strongest attack yet. Like a hammer stroke he pushed hard against my control. I knew that if I still possessed my energy than repulsing this would be trivial. However, my over reliance, using it as a crutch for my mental faculties had weakened my mind in its absence.

I retreated. Even though my Goa'uld impressions heavily criticized me for giving into the _slave_. I almost withdrew completely into my serpent body but stopped. Early enough that I could still piggyback on the beggars senses.

The backlash of my abrupt mental retreat meant that the beggar had fallen into the side of the dirty street and was now hyperventilating. _Weak_ , my thoughts whispered. I pushed that thought away and settled in to observe and wait.

The man muttered something over and over again under his breath, it was unintelligible so I slowly riffled through his memories of language. Eh, well evidently, he was muttering, "Demon, Demon, Demon, Gods save me."

Also their was something about praying more often and becoming an all around better person. Amusing, all it took was alien possession for somebody to proclaim that they would change their entire life around. Not that he probably would actually change his life any. Perhaps this new resolve would last a couple weeks but when the terror was adequately dulled he would return to his old way of life being a drunken beggar.

Not that he ever received enough money on a Goa'uld run planet to do anything with his money but be a beggar. Satisfied that he probably would not run through the streets screaming of demon possession I withdrew completely back into my body.

Immediately, I felt the difference. The energy reconnected. I could feel the reservoir of powerful energy. With a thought I activated grid vision, actually peering out of the beggar's flesh. It seemed to be different, giving me an overlaying grid over everything within three meters of my serpent body. Which included the beggar who was just now picking himself of the ground and hobbling down the street. I waited until it faded away before activating it again.

The beggar continued on his route. He apparently had a destination in mind. I was half tempted to usurp him again, with the power afforded me by the energy I could easily accomplish it. Nevertheless, it was quite possible that the energy would disappear once I usurped his control again.

Then a different thought occurred to me. Maybe the beggar would lead me to a better host? If so, that would make all this effort worthwhile. I activated my vision again since it had lapsed. We were outside an alleyway.

The beggar warily entered the alleyway, heading towards a small recess in the wall of the alley. I watched through the grid vision as he approached, what? The details in the grid vision were incapable of making out the details on a little shelf set in the recess.

I pushed forward slightly, enriching on the old man's sight again. I felt the energy recede as I did so. Light swam back into my mind and I found myself capable of normal sight again. I was careful not to read into other parts of his mind, lest I alert the old man to my continuing presence.

The shelf in the recess contained a shrine. Roughly carved wooden statues adorned the slightly ruined wall. The statues themselves were unrecognizable, but one of the male ones was likely Apophis. Their was a plethora of other things, baubles really, that I did not even take the time to try and discern.

The old beggar knelt stiffly and began to, stumbling all the while, to recite a few prayers, asking for forgiveness and mercy. I may of been moved once, but I felt nothing, I was apathetic. I withdrew a little into my own body, where the energy returned to me and the apathy faded away. it was replaced quickly by sympathy for the old beggar. Disconcerted, I quickly returned to watching through the old beggar's eyes.

He finished the plan and slowly stood, probably had arthritis or something similar. The beggar shambled back towards the alleyways mouth. I saw a flare of light, the beggar turned momentarily blinking in the sudden light offered by a suddenly open door.

"Uncle!" The voice of a young women called, surprised, "Will you not come in a moment?"

The old beggar, who was apparently also an uncle, hesitated a second, several thoughts flying through his head. First, a spiteful split with his sister's family and a vow to himself to never associate with them and then the horrible memory he had of me.

"Yes," He muttered, taking the morally high route. I however, was scrutinizing the girl. She was not unpleasant to regard, looked whole, and would make a perfect host.

I waited as the old beggar shambled inside, the young women dressed in a dull brown and aged white cloth holding the door for him. I waited as they exchanged pleasantries, I waited until she turned away to place a lamp back on the primitive table. In that instant I cut the flow of oxygen to the old man's brain, causing him to momentarily black out, I exploded out of his throat just as his head nodded and consciousness relaxed.

The girl turned slowly as I landed on the table, fins flaring with a sibilant exhalation, she opened her mouth to scream.

 _Perfect_. Target acquired.


	6. Chapter 6: S for Siren

Chapter 6: S for Siren

This mind was much weaker than the old beggars. This was partly a surprise since I would have thought that the beggar would have the weaker will. I suppose it gives some wisdom to that old saying, _never judge a book by its cover_. I had misjudged and believed that since the homeless beggar's mind was so resilient that I would have to strike into the girl's mind with overwhelming force.

This belief was erroneous. I may have accidentally pulped her brain with the force of my mental assault. I prodded tentatively into the deeper recesses of her mind before drawing back with relief. Never mind, she will most likely recover, but it will take a few years of dedicated effort. At least on my part, the Goa'uld memories actually have a small out of the way section of memory devoted to gently coaxing a shattered psyche together.

My empathy with the host's plight was steadily fading as I remained in command of her body. I had observed this phenomenon while attempting to usurp the old man's body. I pulled back majorly, maintaining only loose command of the host. When I had done this with the old man he had immediately regained control. The girl's mind was in the equivalent of a coma so I maintained control of the vessel. Also, my empathy returned and my megalomania decreased.

I tested the body, opening and closing the mouth, flicking the eyes to either side, sniffing the air, and twitching random muscles. I stood from where I had fallen, brushed of the faint dust that had gather on her, well now my, dull brown dress and white apron. I examined her hands, they were rough and callused from years of hard work. My Goa'uld leanings were appalled, never had any Goa'uld deemed to take such a lowly slave unless they possessed an exquisite and unparalleled beauty.

However, this host was perfect for my purposes, technically I would also be only improving her station in life, from slave to god. Yes, it would be dangerous but that was a small price to pay for divinity. I shakily stepped forward and rested my hands on the table for support. This body was unwieldy, I expected walking and piloting it to be more instinctual. Instead it seemed that I had to concentrate for everything.

Why is the body feeling light headed? Black spots swum in front of my host's eyes, it felt like the host's head was _so_ light. The host collapsed causing a sharp pain to radiate out from her elbow. I gasped.

Oxygen flooded into the body. I laid still for a few seconds gasping frantically, breathing in and out. _That was stupid_ , was actually my next coherent thought, _I forgot to breath_. Evidently even such an instinctual and ordinary ingrained process required me to exert conscious control. I really did a number on the host, I guess their goes any hopes of talking to a trustworthy confident in the near future.

I climbed to my feet again, cradling my elbow which sent out sharp bursts of pain in time with the host's pulse. At least the heart worked automatically. I leaned against the table again before glancing over at my last host.

The old man was still out of it, stone cold. I reached over to check his pulse, ensuring that I had not killed him. His heartbeat was weak but steady. About typical for an old man of declining health and years.

I looked down at a slightly rusty cutting implement, made of iron but attached to a wooden handle with sinew and then turned my gaze towards the old man. For a second I contemplated his murder, wondering whether he would be able to tattletale on me. After all, upon questioning it was likely that he could accurately describe my Goa'uld form. From their it would be child's play to discern that I was the Goa'uld that was missing from my incubator, the Jaffa.

I turned my gaze back towards the rudimentary knife, which apparently I had snatched from the table and which I was now holding in an iron grip. My hand had gone white with the intensity of my grip. My hand trembled for a moment as I pondered the question.

Finally, my trembling subsided as I reached a conclusion. I scanned the room. Then I stepped to the left coming to a stop in front of the rough shelf where the young women had placed the primitive (beeswax?)lamp.

I picked up an embroidered little cloth, most likely of value to the host and wrapped the knife's blade in it before picking up a small piece of sinew to tie around the handle. Once the handle was tied I tied another length around my wrist before tying the sinew rope to the sinew bracelet and hiding the old knife in my sleeve. I ensured that it would not cut me by securing the embroidered cloth around the blade.

Then I stalked over to the old man, still a little shakily, and grabbed him under the armpits before slowly easing him to the floor. After all I did not wish him to perish from stirring in his sleep, and I had no idea where the sleeping area of this house was.

After that was completed I decided to practice speaking. My first words came out, terribly slurred and sounding like I had horrendous brain damage. Which while somewhat accurate was not something I needed. I searched my brain for Goa'uld methods of speaking. With some effort, it was much harder than I thought, I achieved speaking. Of course even though my words were understandable, they came out in the low rumble that the Goa'uld were greatly known for. This in turn was a serious problem if I intended to escape the planet undetected by Apophis and his lackeys.

So I retuned to my attempts at speech, "Mmmmnny."

That was my attempt at saying money, which was really bad, the lips and tongue were just not cooperating.

"Mmmuny," I tried again. 'Money' was a very important word and it wouldn't do to make me seem like a buffoon, or braindead.

I receded into my Goa'uld body a little more, leaving me with an extremely tenuous hold on the host. I prodded my energy for a solution. When I wanted to see it gave me the grid vision, so perhaps it would provide me an answer this obstacle.

It felt like rubbing my brain against sandpaper but it grudgingly surged and I felt a sudden heaviness to my host's throat.

I spoke again, "Money."

The word was clear, but at the same time beyond description. It sounded like an orchestra. I heard chords of music, making my voice into something supernatural. Utterly captivating, beyond mortality, I was captivated by my own voice.

Filled with a sudden urge to speak, speak without stopping, I opened my mouth again. I had only said the first few syllables when the energy receded. Much as the grid vision waned after a few moments the voice seemed to as well.

Once the energy was completely gone, I ascended once more to my throne in the host's mind and the urge to speak departed. I shuddered. It seems I was caught between the megalomania of a Goa'uld thoughts and the growing addiction to the energy.

Well, talk about between a rock and a hard place. Also, that's when the old man groaned, obviously beginning to wake up. I scrambled for my host's memories, but they were pretty much a jumbled mess, I didn't even know who the old beggar was to my host.


	7. Chapter 7: Interlude

Interlude 1: Old Man

He was but a drunkard. Old man Ammon was his name and he used to be a quarryman at a naqahdah mine. He worked hard and enjoyed the blessing of life provided by the gods for almost thirty years. Many of his fellow workers squandered and died under the harsh conditions afforded by the gods taskmasters.

Ammon was sure that the gods were merely testing their faith with such cruelty. It was only when his younger brother perished, crushed to death by a collapsing tunnel that he first began to doubt.

He began to spend the small tithe he received for his work on fermented drink, an extremely watered down wine, in order to forget his failings. He was also shamed by the barrenness of his wife and mortified when she perished, starving to death without even informing him she needed food. She had borne it all silently and passed away in the night.

That was the stick that broke the camel's back. Not that he actually knew what a camel was but he heard it somewhere years ago in his youth. When he asked what a camel was he was told, imagine something like a donkey but much bigger and even more stubborn.

Ammon spent the reminder of his days doing small odd jobs, leaching off his sister's children's charity, and using the money acquired from the odd jobs to buy more alcohol. Finally, his niece's husband engaged in a verbal spat in which he claimed that he would never return and cursed their house.

He left their company an old and increasingly bitter man. That all led him to today, where he shambled his way down the narrow back street. His peg leg making a clomping sound that was recognized by many of the inhabitants of this sector of the city. Thankfully he was well known enough that his fellows warned him when the Jaffa patrolled and helped him hide away before any of the Jaffa found him after curfew.

That in turn led him to this very moment. He shambled down the street, he did not know that the filth was a health hazard since that was all he had ever known. Hearing the approach of two of the Jaffa he ducked into the entrance of a nearby alleyway and swept some of the trash over his reclining form.

Once the Jaffa passed Ammon hurried on. After all he had heard that Imon on the narrowest street was giving out free wine. Yes, that was truly a reason to be out after curfew. He stopped, hesitating for a moment when he heard the rustle of trash. Perhaps someones animal was loose?

Surely, he would receive a reward if he returned it. It was a vermin he would eat well for a day. Yes, Ammon smiled, revealing corroded yellow teeth. Long ground down by a diet of flat bread riffled with minuscule fragments of rock and grains of sand from the millstone.

He hobbled towards the trash, it was barely moving, it was most likely a vermin then. Probably a rat or some other rodent, Ammon mused to himself.

He froze as he heard a sibilant hiss. A snake! He took one step back as the serpent rose out of the refuse. It was not like the deep desert vipers he had seen before. It had two fins positioned behind its head and a gaping maw with many sharp teeth. Lastly, its eyes glowed with the same light that the god's eyes glowed. Ammon had seen one god from a distance many years ago, he would always remember that unnatural sight in their eyes. But this creature could never be a god, no god would appear as such a loathsome serpent.

Nevertheless, Ammon shakily raised a hand with a small wooden ankh to ward or the serpent. The serpent sprang towards his throat, letting out an unearthly hiss. Ammon flailed, attempting to stop the serpents strike. He was horrified when the serpent struck of his arm and went straight into his throat.

He tried to bite down but his mouth would not close, he felt a sharp biting pain in the back of his throat and would have screamed in terror if he could. It was biting him! How much worse could his day get?

Then as the last of the serpent disappeared into his throat his body began to move without his control. He jerked in panic as his control was usurped. Something oily slipped into his mind and dark words murmured in the back of his mind. Whispering of how all his bases belonged to it. How it was going to torture his mind and break it over countless years. The words became more and more incoherent but all the more dreadful for that.

Just as he was on the verge of despair something infinitely vast squeezed into his mind. It was beyond comprehension, it was something so far beyond him that his mind almost broke from just the lightest of grazes against his consciousness. He flailed in mental panic, in utter terror he pushed back against this unfathomable thing. This was truly no mortal creature, it was so vast, so majestic, so very malevolent.

He quailed for a second underneath the presence of such an existence. He knew that this was a demon, for nothing else would feel so akin to rot. The presence was riddled with great swathes of rot where foul whispers emanated. It was these whispers that promised his eternal suffering in fire and brimstone.

He struck back with a panic born fury. A half forgotten litany to the gods wielded line a mental sword. He prayed to the gods, promising that he would reform his life and forgive his sister's children of the their slight. He promised that he would give up alcohol and work honestly for the rest of his life if only the gods let him triumph.

For a long moment he believed that his prayer would be unanswered and prepared a last assault. However, when he struck the presence withdrew just before him. It shrunk and disappeared, fleeing into the netherworld.

For another long moment he marveled as sight was returned and control of his limbs relinquished. He began a prayer of thanksgiving before he felt the loathsome touch of demon at his mind again. He knew that it was only waiting for his faith to fail before it would strike again.

"Gods save me from the Demon!" He prayed with increasing fervor. He felt the presence redraw as the volume of is prayer increased. After a moment, in which he deemed the demon truly gone Ammon immediately turned and began to hobble through the streets.

His sister's children maintained a small shrine where many would go and pray throughout their daily lives. Ammon aimed to hurry their and leave a proper sacrifice in thanksgiving.

Once their he withdrew a measly copper coin that he had intended to use for his daily allowance of watered down wine but instead he laid it before the statue of the great god Apophis and recited every prayer that he could recall.

As he finished he turned to leave, confident that with a protection of the gods he could easily and speedily reform his life. This plan was arrested when his niece through open the door of her family dwelling and called out, "Uncle! Will you not come in a moment."

Following old habits Ammon almost turned his face away in scorn but remembered his new resolution and accepted gruffly. His niece, who he had actually forgotten the name of, invited him in with a sunny smile upon her comely face. She was young and he had heard through the grapevine that his sister had found a relatively worthy merchant to marry her off too.

He shambled into the doorway, his niece holding the rickety wooden door open for him. She quickly seated him at the worn wooden table and turned away to place the lamp on the small shelf where his sister placed the few heirlooms, if even that, of their family.

Suddenly, Ammon felt a sharp pain in the back of his throat. Feeling lightheaded his leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms agains the tabletop. As blackness intruded on his vision the demon serpent rapidly slithered from his throat and coiled on the table. He watched in helpless horror as it sprang towards his niece as she turned and opened her mouth to scream. Then blackness took him, and fell into unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8: N for Nyctophobia

Chapter 7: N for Nyctophobia

I watched the old beggar carefully as he groaned. After a few seconds he relaxed again, evidently returning to slumber. I exhaled, slightly relieved and turned away to scrutinize the rest of the room for anything I missed. A rustle of cloth alerted me to movement and I turned my head just enough to dodge a rusted iron blade aimed at my head.

I choked in surprise and back pedaled away from the strike. With a slight tinge of amusement I noticed that it was the old beggar. Evidently he knew something I didn't anticipate his seeing. He looked rather irate, suffused with rage, and looked rather determined to kill me.

"Demon," he snarled, spittle flying from his chapped mouth and yellowed teeth. I moved my body again, to dodge his bodily fluids, and glared at him. He struck out again, moving with surprising agility for a cripple.

Adrenaline pumped through my body and I also demonstrated admirable agility in avoiding the man's increasingly frenzied strikes. Finally he overextended and took a moment to long to draw his knife back and that's when I struck.

Like a serpent my arm snaked out, showing supposing dexterity for someone that was having trouble merely moving the body before, I whacked him in the throat. I felt something give, the throat, airway, larynx, or whatever it was called collapsed and then he collapsed choking. Carefully I stepped around his prone form and snatched up the knife.

"Mgn," I muttered, still incomprehensible, this knife was quite a bit nicer and was know mine. I leant down and stabbed the dying old beggar with his own knife at the back of his head. Right in between the junction of skull and spine. I recalled a story I heard that stabbing there would involve the least amount of mess.

As he expired with a short pained exhalation of air I stepped back and pondered for a second. It was disappointing that I had to kill him but my life was far more valuable that his. I pursed my host's lips as I thought.

Perhaps more troubling was how easily I committed to killing the beggar, after all did I not decide earlier to spare him in the name of morality? I slowly withdrew again from my body, the Goa'uld influence seeping away as I did so. Immediately I was hit with an emotional bludgeon, remorse towards my deed, and sorrow at my mental state.

What I did not feel was guilt, both the nascent feelings I received from the energy and the Goa'uld memories agreed that the demise of the beggar was the right choice. From the energy I sensed something vaguely similar to nostalgia and wistfulness. Filled with contriteness I murmured a short prayer.

"May his soul, reach whatever afterlife he believes in," I concluded the terribly slurred prayer a moment later and spared a moment to reflect on what type of person this man could have been once.

I heard a pounding on the door a moment later and a female voice calling out, sounding quite concerned, "Is everything all right? It sounds like their's a fight going on! Is Amon bothering you again?"

I froze, then I jolted to my feet and rushed to the back door. Which wasn't really a back door but more like the entrance to a back room. Frantically I searched for a way out of the house. Their was two windows, but they both were a little too small for me to fit through, each made only to let in a little light.

Disheartened slightly but remaining hopeful I took care to overturn the bed silently. Which of course turned out to be a futile endeavor since some small piece of primitive pottery, which had been concealed by the worn woolen blanket on the bed, careened off and shattered noisily on the straw covered floor.

Immediately following that I heard a shout of alarm and an impact against the door. Now somebody knew something had happened for sure. Before the neighbors might have just trumped up the sounds as their own imagination getting a little carried away but after calling out, not receiving a reply, and hearing pottery shattering, they knew for sure that something was wrong inside.

This was made even more serious by the fact that the neighbors wouldn't even be erroneous. The old beggar might have been well regarded but I highly doubted it, they might believe that he had accosted my host but since I couldn't articulate speech in the same manner as the girl, they may conjure up their own explanation to what happened.

If the populace got to rowdy that would draw the attention of the Jaffa, and if the Jaffa got involved, the Goa'uld overlords would have their attention, as short and fleeting as it was wont to be, drawn straight towards my direction.

I paused and drew upon my well of energy, I activated the grid sight. My vision turned white for a second, as I poured more energy into the ability than I had intended. A curious clicking, a disturbing chirping echoed, whispering in my ears, before it initialized. My vision was quickly inlaid with the peculiar grid.

As I heard the wood of door start to give away in the living chamber I noticed something interesting about the floor of the room. When all the other tiles and straw on the floor appeared in white lines, four appeared as yellow. I piloted my body towards them, feeling the tiles beneath my fingers and scraping the straw away.

The grid vision faded away a moment later and I noted that the tiles appeared no different to the other tiles in my host's normal vision. I felt them under my hand, as I heard another crash and then the shout in the deep resonating voice of a Jaffa. I worked faster digging my fingers into the sides of one tile, prying it away and scraping my fingers badly.

It revealed a dark ravenous looking access into an endless abyss. Actually, it was just the entrance to a tunnel or hidden chamber of some sort. I quickly pulled another tile away, revealing an entrance expansive enough that I could descend.

Then feeling my breath began to quicken as a probable prelude to panic, I submersed myself into my energy. Feeling my growing sense of claustrophobia and Nyctophobia abate I clumsily directed my host in climbing into the hole and sealing the tunnel over with the tiles.

The whole house shook for a moment and I heard a Jaffa yelling as he smashed through the flimsy wooden door in the other chamber. Finally, just as I heard shouted exclamations of alarm, probably finding the body, I slid the last tile over the entrance and was left in near absolute darkness.

Now, I wish I had peered a little closer before I leapt. Who knows what else is down here. Or even how big this tunnel is, I activated the grid vision, the tunnel continued steadily downhill, the stone it was made of was eroded away in an increasingly strange manner. This tunnel was not constructed using the ordinary Goa'uld manner.

It looked far more like something an enormous worm would construct as it ate through soil, but of course this was rock. The tunnel sides were a little too smooth, I ran a hand alongside the marble like side and shakily exhaled.

From the strength of the emotions, mainly panic, I was actually forced to remain almost completely immersed in the energy's hold. However, this meant my hearing would be heavily compromised. Steeling myself I began to walk downhill, sliding every few steps as a result of the gradual and far too smooth slope beneath my feet.


End file.
